Survival
by Diamondbreeze
Summary: I just wanted to write something about the battle with red death, in the characters' points of view. It's better than the summary, so, just give it a go, I guess. Rated T, because that is the rating I give all my stories.


Hey, everybody! I've just updated my other stories, and since I got tired of writing for the same subject for so long, I've decided to write a nice How to Train Your Dragon fanfiction. I know, I shouldn't be doing another story when I have two of them to write, but if I didn't stop, this plot bunny would have destroyed my sanity, and I would never have been able to write again. Please excuse any grammar errors or spelling errors, I'm not perfect. Deal.

I don't know if this'll be a one-shot, or something I should continue. It really depends on if I like how its getting along. So, please, I hope you enjoy, and don't be shy. I love hearing from my beloved readers. Thank you for taking the time to read my horrible nonsense. On with the Show!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except an Ipod!

* * *

The air was bitter. It wasn't cold, wasn't frigid as the icy waters below, taunting his intense fear of heights. It wasn't even blistering hot, not hot enough to make his skin feel cold. That was a weird phenomenon, wasn't it? How when something was so hot, it felt cold?

He'd felt that before. In the forge with a man that treated him better than his father ever had. Where he loved to be, drawing, and turning his drawings to life. It was when he was young, early on, before he could see the terrible disappointment in his father's eyes, or the grief he had when he saw the clear resemblance to her in Hiccup. He was small, his thin, small arms were being gently held by Gobber, a strange gentleness at that. He was guiding his little arms, to shovel coal into the furnace, then to step on bellow, and make the flames bigger, hotter. 'Its for metal, little Hiccup. Nothing else should go in here. Do you understand?' The little boy had nodded, but never understood. Why is it that he could connect two pieces of metal, but not anything else? He'd trusted the man who was a better father than his own ever was, at least, until he'd gotten a chance to impress the other kids in the village. They'd always been, sort of nice, but usually tried to avoid long conversations or interactions with him in public. But one day, they'd been walking along, enjoying the day, talking about the recent dragon raid, and laughing at anything stupid they could think of, when Hiccup walked up.

"Hey guys, you mind if I join you?" He asked, keeping his young forehead and the tops of his brilliant green eyes behind reddish-brown hair. The others looked between each other, then shrugged allowing him to walk with them, inviting him to talk, though he barely said a word the whole time, just watching, trying to get a standing on who would be nice to him, and who would be not so nice. Soon, he'd been so caught up in his work that he didn't notice the others asking him a question. He blinked his thoughts away, and centered in on them.

"-ou do in your free time, Hiccup? We really never see you around the village." That was Astrid, flicking a short, stray strand of limp, blonde hair away from her face. Her hair was in a large French braid, though her toddler hair always seemed to fly out of it and into her eyes again.

Hiccup quickly answered, blushing at the long time it was taking him to answer.

"I usually work in the forge with Gobber." he replied nonchalantly. Then, seeing the bright interest, he smiled a toothy grin, excitement already beginning to bubble in his chest. "Do you guys want to see what I do? I could show you how to do some of it."

The others grinned as well, the same innocent excitement showing on their faces. Hiccup led them, then, down to the forge. The twins marveled at the hammers, both jumping and kicking and trying to climb the walls to reach an especially sharp and bloody one. Snotlout joined them, soon making a three-way fight between them. Fishlegs finds Hiccup's drawings and looks through them, enjoying the great insight he gets. But Astrid doesn't. She heads to the fire. She watches with smoky grey eyes, and her love for destruction shows. Not bad destruction, she's a Viking after all. But she's interested, and soon, after watching the dancing, lively flames slowly putter and crackle to a stop, she grabs Hiccup's arm and pulls him to the fire.

"Make it light again, Hiccup." she whined, pointing at the glowing hot coals in front of them. Hiccup shook his head, remembering another lesson from Gobber.

"Sorry, Astrid, but Gobber said I'm not supposed to make the fire without him here with me."

Astrid looked at him, and understanding that he wouldn't do it, stomped her foot on the ground.

"Fine, _I'll_ do it, wimp." She snorted, knocking him off guard. Before he could stop her, she ran forward, her thin figure darting towards the nearest table. She grabbed some rocks and even some of Hiccup's inventions and threw them into the coals, casting a smug smile at Hiccup. Hiccup didn't care. All he cared about was the reminder from Gobber, and his inventions. His beloved inventions were almost all he had. Rage and fear boiled up inside of him as he forgot Gobber's most important rule as he lunged forward a tear welling up inside of his big eyes at the thought of losing his work.

"Don't ever be _anywhere _near the flames."

Astrid saw what he was trying to do, and in her childish idea of revenge, for whatever reason, she pressed the bellows together, blowing air, precious, oxygen-rich air at the starving coals. Hiccup looked up at her, fear and panic in his eyes. Before he'd had a chance to pull back, the coals sprouted hungrily into white-hot flames, bending the air around it. Hiccup screamed, and Astrid watched in horror as he fell down to the floor, crying up a river. His arms were burned, red blisters were visible on his skin. His face wasn't so bad, it only had burns on his chin. She jumped down, and ran up to him, grabbing his arms and shaking him, trying to get him to stop crying. She hated it when someone cried. She always felt like crying too. And that should never happen. She was Astrid.

He shook his head, getting out of the memory. That had been one of his least favorite times in the forge, but at least he learned one thing from it.

Astrid likes fire.

He coughed at the burning air, which was filled with ash from the burned ground below. It felt bitter on his tongue, and felt like hot acid in his lungs. It stung his eyes, and he looked down, at his beloved black dragon. They had killed it, they had saved the village. He had saved Astrid. And now he was going to die. He blacked out, just before the white-hot flames, just like what he'd felt some time ago, surrounded him. The darkness was blissful, and he gladly fell into it.

* * *

Hiccup was in trouble. His rider was in trouble. His own scales would be enough to keep the hot flames from licking the life out of him. But his beloved rider and friend? He did not have any scales to protect him. He looked around, looking for his rider as he fell down, uncontrollably without his prosthetic tailfin. Suddenly, his bright green eyes caught on target and he shot forward, his large, black wings wrapping around Hiccup. Now his friend was safe.

He looked down, and watched the flames shoot upward, curling, puffing toward him, and hummed in content as he felt the hot flames flow smoothly over his shiny black scales. And as he fell with his rider, knowing in his large, dragon heart that they might not live from the impact, he closed his eyes, happy only with the fact that they would be together. The red dragon that had kept the dragons of Berk in fear for so long was gone, and now the dragons could be at peace with the Vikings. The beautiful Night Fury opened his eyes just a smidgeon, just to look at his rider one last time. He squeezed him, trying to get a reaction. As he gave up, and reclosed his eyes, the ground was finally upon them. He felt the dirt smash into his hard, dragon scales, and felt his back and head both slam into the ground. But through the murky darkness he felt, all he thought about was his beloved rider.

Was he safe?

Or had he failed him?...

As soon as he thought, the darkness surrounded him, and he fell into it's comforting embrace.

* * *

Stoick's eyes were wide and panicked. He turned around, his neck veins popping out, a deep bluish-green. His helmet was still on his head and covered with flecks of blood from past battles. Despite his fame of being invincible, he was shaking. Some might ask why, why would such a man, a Viking chief at that, be shaking? Because he just saw his son fall from the sky. If that wasn't a reason to be afraid, what was?

He ran forward, his bulky, muscled arms cutting through the large crowd that had surrounded the landing place of his son's dragon. What had he named it? Toothy? He shook the thought from his mind as he continued forward, fearing the worst had happened to his only son. Why did it always have to happen to his family? And to someone who was so close to him? He really regretted those years now, and regretted those few words he had said not too long ago. How could he, how could he say he wasn't his son anymore? He regretted all the times he'd only looked at his son in disappointment. Like he'd failed at something. Why had he expected so much? He was just a child.

His thick legs continued forward, until they let out from underneath him, falling to his knees on the dry ground. He just kneeled there, humble to the tauntings of death. It had taken his love, why had it had to take his son too? 'No', he thought quickly, 'he isn't dead. He can't be.'

As he thought this, just staring at the beautiful creature in front of him, denying what he thought could only be true, the black shape moved.

"My son."

It moved more noticeably now, catching the eyes of Stoick. It gradually unfurled its wings, and revealed the familiar shape of Hiccup. He looked fine, just a little battered up, just sleeping peacefully, as if he were still in bed, and none of the day's events had happened. He shouted out to the crowd now, that his son was yet alive. He felt happy, the wonderful, unexplainable feeling growing, spreading through his vast body, like a fuzzy blanket. But as he looked to take his son, he saw the bloody, crushed mess of Hiccup's leg, and the horrible feeling returned. He picked him up quickly, the fog in the air suffocating him, and he leaned his ear next to the boy's chest again. He sighed, hearing the small heart beat.

Thump-um. Thump-um.

The dragon revealed it's eyes, then hummed as it saw the large grin playing over Stoick's face. If his rider's parent was smiling, then his rider was safe. He was going to be fine. He had succeeded, achieving the one thing he'd wanted most, along with Hiccup.

Survival.

* * *

Wow. I really didn't know how this was going to go. I thought it would not make any sense, but it seems pretty good to me. Maybe a little to whumpy, a little too dramatic but hey, what can I say? Drama is too easy to write, is it not? Alright, tell me what you think. Was it so good you wanted to hug your phone or computer or technological device? Or was it so bad that you wanted to smash it to bits, burn it, and slap me for thinking of such a horrible story? I know it's from the movie, I just wanted to have what the characters thought of while the events happened. And I put a little bit of my own creation into it. Anyways, reviews are always appreciated, and I hope you liked the story. Thank you for reading. Love you guys. :)

-Diamondbreeze


End file.
